i went on a walk today.

i moved a year ago. to england as it were. fish and chips, merry fuckin poppins. england.

i walked for a long time imagining the leaves were all the maps ever made, yellowing, fading, dissolving and forgetting. i imagined the cracks in the sidewalk to be whales breaking out of the sea, crashing back in a ferocious splash, ripping apart the tide. patterns in bricks became passage ways that led to the 1930's. it was wonderful.

a man asked me what i wanted in life. he told me, in the span of 20 minutes, his motto, three times. if he did this thing, he might see gains. if he worked today, he might see progress tomorrow. his view, as he told me again and again, was that tomorrow came at his behest. but what, he asked, did i seek. 'to be happy with my husband,' i could imagine nothing better.

since I've been here I've dated the love of my life only to find that just one of us was ready. i dated the boy who was actually named mr. right, only to find he wasn't sure what the question was. now I'm dating a boy who doesn't have a clue who he is.

they say being in nature for an hour a day can substantially change your brain. the problem solving, the creativity, the lack of constant fed stimulation.

i want to have someone fight for me. i want to be worthy of being loved. someday, perhaps a day thats already passed, someone will want to know me the way i longed to see the maps shriveled and dried on the ends of the branches.

I woke up to the sound of crying. I kept repeating "it's ok. It's ok" till the 
crying stopped. I don't know how long it took to understand it was me crying. I 
don't know how long it will take to know who I was lying to. 

I'm ready to say something new

In the desert northeast of cairo my partner spent 18 months digging up red sand, dry sand. i laughed at his foolishesness. all the discoveries to be discovered had been unearth. they had been found by giants of history, by visonaries, by those before the fall.

two months ago he found a stone that he said linked the past to now. i dismissed it.

he left me, he left us, all of us, he left the earth, he left the living weeks ago. he left us here. with nothing new, nothing solved.

i built a castle

A New Year

I recently read a book about how being 29 is quite possible the hardest year. the premise essentially was that being 29 meant coming to terms with everything you thought was supposed to happen and didn't. and even worse: everything you thought you wanted but don't.

i have already had some frustrations and some good points of the year but overall i am tragically optimistic. i keep thinking maybe this year will be better. and the something happens to scare that away.

the other night after a munch i had the most amazing evening going and playing silly shoot em up games at an arcade with an ex. i had an amazing night and i felt special and wonderful and alive and good. part of me wanted him back. missed him. missed feeling special. i contacted him the next day and told him i missed hanging out with him and i wanted to do something with him soon. he responded he would be happy to, but as a casual friend with no pressure. for some reason this struck me and i couldn't recover . i just kept hearing the words echo and thinking of it over and over. i thought of how when i see amittai i feel amazing and incredible for a night, for a day and then realize i mean nothing to him.

i thought about how when amittai leaves town or when kurt is away and they let me stay at their place, or when i stay in a hotel, how i feel safe. for a night, for a day till i wake up, till i leave. i fell for this ex in that moment, in that space and then it was a cold wake up back to the real world, to the morning. its like i go from port to port looking, hoping for a place to hide out, to stay till the storm settles. like i have to stay moving. i thought of how easily it must seem i am manipulated. and i guess in truth i am. i don't know entirely what to do with that.

i got a dog because i love dogs but also because i thought it would be good to get out of my own head. if i had to worry about someone else, care about someone else, well then i couldn't be stuck in this whole i made. right? I'm not sure its worked out like that.

kurt is in the other room snoring so loud i cant even close my eyes. i feel trapped. not frightened, just claustrophobic. like they will find me hear sooner. like i would be safer at home. like its more obvious I'm hiding.

i leave for spain soon. another time alone, away from everyone where i pretend i am figuring things out.

maybe this could be my year. am i vain for thinking and hoping for such things? selfish?

i was able to admit to myself this morning that i didn't love evan enough. that he doesn't love me. i was able to admit it would be good if i could burn everything i saved for him and just let it go. i wont. but it would be good. i don't think i need him anymore. not how i used to. But i need something.

I keep thinking of my father. he tried things the same way. he worked out every single day. he would run, do sit ups, push ups. every day he did these things. every day he worked. he kept doing the same things, thinking the same things. and he died. he died long before his heart attack. i don't want to be that. i want to be able to say i am 29 and i was wrong about what i thought i knew, what i thought i wanted. i want to be able to say: i have some new ideas and i am ok if they don't work out. i don't want to fall this easily anymore. i don't want to need something to cling to this much. i don't know how to make this happen.

Jolly Old

The first Christmas after my father died no one knew how to act or what to do. We went through the motions and pretended things were the same. I hid. I ignored that my life was falling apart. We watched the same presents being torn ooen. he same arguemnts. They same dinners. With a lot more silence.

The second year, well the second year was the year my mother was persuaded she was going to go broke and end up on the streets in poverty. I was in denial and only wanting to drown myself.

The third year my father died my mother spent all her money. 97 presents line the white, artificial tree.

Every year i say goodbye to someone else. SHould that be coming common place.

I knew i would never see evan again. i never saw my father. i went back into the house to hug my grandmother. i looked at a woman and hugged her knowing i would never see her again and then left the room. thats who we become. we accept this. we walk away knowing we will never see someone again. knowing they want to. knowing they dont want it to be the end. knowing they have nothing pressing the to come in on monday. and yet we walk away. it is life and death. she will die. and yet we walk away. do other people? do other people?

i write a letter to Santa every year. i know i'm too old.

They say when you are attempting to give up an addiction that you shouldn't say things like "last cigarette", this will be "the very last drink." they say it adds too much pressure. Whats an addiction though but a fear? a fear of losing something in which you take comfort. so they say. i shouldn't think. i shouldn't count the last ones. the last moments. the last christmas'. so they say.

i wrote evans card. i wrote evans letter. his present. his email. i wrote it all. i wrote a letter for fred. a letter for all who mattered. none will be read.

i wished for him. same every year. i wish for my animals. i wish for my life. i wish for my God. i wish to not have hope but simply faith. i wish that i can stop trying. i pray. i go to sleep thinking that when someone comes, when someone breaks in, itll be better. ill be rewarded. ill have been judged good. i wake up alone. cold. i told evan i would spend that christmas with him but i went home. it was the last time i ever saw my father. i never regretted that i never returned his calls. instead i regret that i went home. i regret that i didnt stay with evan. ill never write anything that will matter as much as that. no list, no story, no wish. i loved him. nothing made can ever amount to something that is.

i'm sorry i left. every second. it was someone else i was saying goodbye too. i dont know how any of us ever walk away.

Running, Written, Raped

It is officially the last day of summer. Labor day is here and that means schools will be back in session, night will come early, even the bus routes will change. I haven't written much but a lot has happened. The problem is everything that's happened has been in my head. I'll do my best to retell it all now.